


Spread

by bluebells



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Against a Wall, Begging, Dub/Non-Con Elements, M/M, Only Top 500 Lucios dive Snipers and escape unscathed, Oral Sex, restrained
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 18:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20158324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: Doomfist has had enough of the irrepressibly sunny and persistent audio medic who keeps harassing Talon's back line.





	Spread

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sleepy_Millie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepy_Millie/gifts).

> Because Millie asked for 'scareroused' but this went heavy on the 'scare'. Make no mistake, in a court of law, this is non-con even with reluctant arousal. Please heed the warnings.

Akande warned him to stay away.

“This will not end well for you,” he seethed, after the second time Lucio propelled Reaper off the roof of the Lijiang skyscraper with that damned sonic blaster.

Reaper’s vengeful yell still ringing in their ears, the audio medic had laughed in his face and _ winked, _“You gotta catch me first.”

The fifth time that audio medic dives his back line, Akande is ready.

He charges for the green, gold and blue blur closing on Lacroix’s position (why was this one fixated on challenging her?). The gauntlet snatches its prize from the air, a winded gasp choking from the body in his grasp as Akande catches them in a controlled tumble to the Parisian balcony. It hurts like a bastard rolling off his shoulder to absorb the brunt of impact, but vindication blooms bright and hot in his chest.

Uncurling from the smaller body he shielded in the fall, Akande sits back, chest heaving, and takes in the long locs thrown in disarray, the stunned look on Lucio’s face as light brown eyes lift to him in shock.

“What the--”

The medic didn’t believe Doomfist, did he? Didn’t think he could follow through on his threat.

Akande smirks, gauntlet closing tighter watching Lúcio squirm, he addresses Lacroix at the other end of the balcony. “Cover their retreat.”

“Hn.” She barely acknowledges him, focused down her scope as Akande drags Lucio inside, throwing the glass doors shut behind them.

The medic has recovered enough to speak, he’s smiling but there’s a tremor to the mirth in his voice and he wobbles when Akande releases him, “You know, if you just wanted to get me alone--” throws his gauntlet to the floor, then all but hauls Lucio up his body with a hand on his wrist, and the smaller man yelps finding Akande’s smug face at his groin and a cold wall slam up against his back, “Wait, wait--”

Lúcio arches, trying to back up, hands pushing at Akande's shoulders but he is just

Too strong

And huge

And he traps Lúcio up against the concrete wall, knees locked around his neck, thighs trembling around his shoulders as he breaks Lúcio's armour apart in his hands.

Outside, the crack of Lacroix’s rifle booms. Akande has done his job.

"Hey c'mon st--" even here, the medic's instinct is to dissuade through warm suggestion, coax his opponent down (_we don’t have to-- you don't have to do this_), flip them on the belief they shared his intention all along. Akande shows him what he thinks of that entreaty _(no, I don't have to but you see-- I want to)_, burying his face in the crook of thigh and hip, rumbling with pleasure and mouthing the cord of muscle that tenses when Lúcio bucks, panicked, hips twisting to get away.

"Wait," Lúcio bleats, unsteady and shaking. He squirms back against concrete to create the illusion of space, hands still fumbling to push him away. Instead, huge hands grasp his knees, spread and pin him to the wall like a precious specimen under a needle.

Lúcio throbs against his lips when he nuzzles into the apex of his thighs through form-fitted clothes. He is so hot here. Akande rubs his cheek back and forth, back and forth along the hardening curve of his cock, humming low at the heartbeat that pulses beneath his filthy kiss. Lúcio vibrates with a body length shiver, weight swaying where Akande now balances him on the collar of his chest.

A hand pushes back at Akande's forehead and Lúcio's voice is coloured with shame, "Wait, no--"

"Why?" Akande growls into him, and Lúcio cries out in true fear when the final barrier between them tears apart under his hands, flimsy as tissue paper.

Lúcio's half-hard cock is bared, dark with the rush of blood from fear and instinctual response to such urgent and aggressive stimulation. Akande eyes it hungrily, breathy exhale falling hot and thick on the sensitive head barely an inch from his lips. It twitches and Lúcio inhales sharply above him, trembling hard, frozen so carefully still.

Akande leans in.

"Don'tdon'tdon'tdon't--" Lúcio arches in shock at the mouth that seals around the base of him in a lewd, wet kiss, groan of relish turning over deep in Akande's chest. Lúcio grasps at the hands holding him open, tilting his hips forward into Akande's ravenous attention. "_Aaaahn_," he shivers violently, breathless and plaintive, spine curving away. "Don't."

All these protests just stir Akande's blood hotter.

It's noisy and wet, shamelessly slurping up the medic's thick length, eyes shut to soak in the searing heat and scent of it, the reluctant throb of Lúcio's pulse on his tongue when he plays beneath the head-- flicking, flattening to taste before his lips seal with a hungry noise and he settles in to _ suck _. Lúcio bucks into him with a whimpered noise of torture, short nails digging in to claw the knuckles of his prosthetic, the thick muscle of the wrist on his flesh hand where the darts of his hand cannon rise beneath his skin.

"W-why are… why are you doing--?"

Hmm?

Akande opens his eyes to find Lúcio watching him--parted lips gasping, half-closed eyes bright with tears, expression stained with confusion, arousal and shame. His favourite cocktail. He can hear Lúcio's fear, but it isn't in his face-- it's in the shallow, quiet breaths he reins so carefully to hold still and small, pose no threat; he doesn't want to arouse Doomfist's ire on top of everything else.

And there is plenty else.

"Do you have… any idea…." His growl sounds more like the grind of stone, the heave of a starved beast. It's the only warning he'll give. Lúcio ignored all the others when he refused to leave Talon alone.

Why is Akande doing this?

Does Lúcio have any idea how important he is? How precious to both sides of this conflict? To the people still to rise up and find their true strength?

Does he have any idea how much Akande admires him? How _ they _ admire him?

“Any idea..." Akande snarls, lips brushing his cock with every word, and he pretends not to notice Lúcio's balls draw up closer to his body. He sinks lower. "How _ annoying _you are?”

Lúcio shudders when Akande licks a wide, hot path from his balls up the length of him. His stifled cry is wet and sniffling. "Please, don't."

No, Akande won't let him be so modest. "You deserve _ everything_." He grounds himself, widening his stance. "Let me show you."

Dark pleasure stirs in Akande's gut and he pushes Lúcio's knees wider to breaking point, and the medic’s breath hitches, a whimper choking in his throat.

He grants himself a long, indulgent moment to drink in the sight before him. He'll never have this again: the breath before the sob, the mewling pleas before the scream, before Lúcio learns what pleasure Akande can wrench from his body, and yields to him in ecstasy.

Holding that teary gaze, Akande parts his lips and sinks down on him to the hilt, suckling wet and urgent and hot, and Lúcio’s head falls back against the wall with a cry like his heart is breaking.

And he will yield. They always do.


End file.
